


the search alone is beautiful

by ohdeariemegoodness



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: (possibly unlawful), Attempted Kidnapping, Bureaucracy, Imprisonment, Other, Post-War, Romance, a proposal review is something that can actually be so personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdeariemegoodness/pseuds/ohdeariemegoodness
Summary: “I apologize for the interruption,” Ultra Magnus says.  “However, the matter is time-sensitive.  I have temporarily contained Jazz in a manual storage closet on the second level.”Ultra Magnus professionally collaborates with Soundwave, administers a conditional surrender agreement, and establishes a desperately-needed appeals process, all while Optimus Prime lays critically injured in the infirmary.  He also imprisons Jazz in a supply closet.  Everything is fine.
Relationships: Soundwave/Ultra Magnus (Transformers), background Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 24
Kudos: 122





	the search alone is beautiful

Do not worry / if you find nothing. This is what I tell myself.

Do not / worry. The search / alone is beautiful.

—Omar Sakr, “How to endure the final hours”

* * *

Ultra Magnus stares blankly at the door he’s just barricaded shut for nearly seven full astrominutes, systems in shock from the unexpected implementation of his plan. There had only been a twelve percent chance of success to begin with, and when Jazz broke free the first time, Magnus had nearly accepted failure. Now that Jazz has actually been contained, Magnus is at a loss. He cannot return to his duties and leave Jazz confined in a storage closet, but Jazz cannot be released, either. Magnus struggles with motor systems stall for several more minutes before his motivator finally manages to kick out a solution: report to Soundwave. 

Ultra Magnus confirms that the heavy environmental regulation unit he pulled out of the wall and now has blocking the door is secured—it’s nearly twice Jazz’s maximum lift capacity, which Ultra Magnus tentatively believes will be sufficient to keep the door closed even if Jazz _does_ manage to reroute the opening panel that Ultra Mangus destroyed—then turns around and marches down the hallway. A quick inquiry with the base computer confirms that Soundwave has, as per the duty roster, returned to his quarters for an assigned rest cycle. Ultra Magnus dislikes interrupting Soundwave’s scheduled duties, but with no other allies among the Decepticons and Optimus still in stasis in the infirmary, he has few alternatives. 

Ultra Magnus pings for entry when he arrives at Soundwave’s quarters, and after a few seconds the door opens to reveal Frenzy. 

Frenzy frowns up at him fiercely. “What d’ya want?” he demands. 

“Please wake Soundwave and alert him to my presence,” Ultra Magnus requests. “The matter is somewhat urgent.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Frenzy says, and disappears back into the room, closing the door behind him. 

The door opens again soon after. “Okay, boss says you can come in,” Frenzy grudgingly tells him. 

“Thank you,” Ultra Magnus says, and steps inside to find Soundwave disconnecting from his rest unit, Ravage stretching out slowly beside him. 

“I apologize for the interruption,” Ultra Magnus says. “However, the matter is time-sensitive. I have temporarily contained Jazz in a manual storage closet on the second level.” 

Ravage sits up, head tilting with interest. 

“Report,” Soundwave says. 

Ultra Magnus explains the situation concisely: having been made aware of Jazz’s plan to commandeer a transport, kidnap Ratchet, disconnect Optimus Prime and Prowl from core support, and remove the three of them to an undisclosed location, he had had no choice but to intervene. Jazz responded uncooperatively and had subsequently been detained. At that point, Jazz had expressed his intention to escape and continue with his plan to violate their conditional surrender agreement. 

“I am at a loss concerning how to proceed,” Ultra Magnus says, finally. “Jazz has not enacted any component of his alleged plan, therefore he has not violated our agreement. However, he has clearly stated his intentions upon his release. Additionally, the storage closet is not an appropriate location for his detainment.”

Of further concern for Ultra Magnus is the extrajudicial confinement. _Judicial_ confinement in this case is impossible, as the Decepticons don’t _have_ an administrative court, and officers are expected to physically enforce the punitive measures they issue. Still, consultation with superior officers would at least be possible, if Ultra Magnus _had_ a functioning superior officer. As it stands, options for ensuring just and equitable treatment are limited.

“Ravage, Frenzy,” Soundwave says, and Frenzy pops up from his own rest unit. “Operation: secure detainment location.” He pauses for a moment, presumably accessing the security feed, then adds, “Constructicons have been notified to assist.” 

The two of them take off, and Soundwave turns to Ultra Magnus. “Detainment location acceptable after installation of additional security measures,” he says. “Confinement in standard cells not recommended. Probability of escape: significant. Additionally, Starscream, responsible for official detainment.” 

“Should Starscream not be notified?” Ultra Magnus asks. “He is this base’s executive officer. He would be a candidate for an appeals process, as well.” Without an administrative court, establishing an appeals process is a critical need. Ultra Magnus has been considering potential candidates, and Starscream is of appropriate rank. 

Soundwave makes an odd harmonic noise that Ultra Magnus doesn’t recognize. “Action not recommended. Starscream: displeased with surrender agreement. Most likely outcome: Starscream, will release Jazz, encourage violation of surrender agreement.” 

It’s a difficult consideration for Ultra Magnus’s systems to integrate—why would Starscream, the Decepticons’ _executive officer_ , desire to foment rebellion among Autobots—but prior experience demonstrates that Starscream cannot be relied upon to take logical or appropriate actions.

“Very well,” Ultra Magnus says. “Still, a closet is not an appropriate location. Jazz must have access to a rest unit, and a reliable source of energon.”

“Energon will be provided,” Soundwave says. “Rest unit, to be installed.”

Magnus considers that for a moment, then nods, reluctantly accepting the necessity of it. So long as Jazz’s immediate needs will be met, a long-term solution can be identified while he remains confined in his current location. “In the meantime, an appeals process must be established—ideally one that the Decepticons will also accept,” Ultra Magnus says, moving on to the next most critical concern. “I will draft a process that is acceptable under our surrender agreement. Would you be able to review the proposed process prior to your next administrative duty cycle?” 

Soundwave’s next administrative duty cycle is seventeen hours from now, plenty of time to draft and review an appeals process. Ultra Magnus has already completed most of the requisite research, although not with this specific objective; since the time of their surrender, he has been largely concerned with the immediate integration of Autobot warriors under their conditional agreement. Ironhide had insisted that researching Decepticon legal precedent was a waste of time, but Ultra Magnus is certainly glad that he has already done so now. 

“Affirmative,” Soundwave says. “Constructicons will notify Soundwave, Ultra Magnus of cell completion.”

“Thank you,” Magnus responds. “Your assistance has been invaluable.” 

Soundwave nods, and Magnus departs. 

As he steps into the officers’ lift, the base computer pings him with a reminder; he is expected in the infirmary for his last welfare check of the day. Magnus runs a brief joint lubrication cycle and selects the ground level. Prior to the incident with Jazz, Magnus had been completing routine welfare checks, many of which will now have to be rescheduled—but he has already been forced to delay Ratchet’s twice in the last tenday. He is determined not to do so again.

“There you are,” Ratchet says, when he steps into the infirmary. “I thought I was about to get another rescheduling notice.” 

“No,” Magnus says. “I apologize for the delay.” 

Ratchet waves him off. “Good timing, anyway. I just completed Prowl’s final processor repairs. I’m pulling him out of supportive stasis this week,” he says. “As soon as the repairs integrate. I tried to inform Jazz, but he hasn’t been answering my communications.” 

Prowl, along with several other Autobots gravely injured in the Battle of Autobot City, has been kept in stasis and on core support while Ratchet completes his repairs. If the Autobots had retreated from Earth after that last battle, sought shelter underneath Cybertron or on some abandoned planetoid instead of surrendering, Prowl would certainly be another designation on the long list of Autobot casualties. 

“Jazz’s communications array was not damaged during detainment,” Ultra Magnus says, before realizing belatedly that Soundwave’s cassettes certainly would have added communications shielding to his makeshift cell.

“Detainment?” Ratchet asks. 

“Yes,” Ultra Magnus says, and relays the entire sequence of events once more. 

When Magnus is finished, Ratchet just sighs deeply. “Only Jazz,” he says, and shakes his head. “Who else? I guess you’ll have to give him the good news yourself, then.” 

“No one else was detained,” Ultra Magnus clarifies. 

“I didn’t—nevermind,” Ratchet says. “Just let me know if I need to take a look at him. He’ll calm down once Prowl is up, anyway.”

“Jazz did not take any damage beyond the capabilities of self-repair, but you may make a welfare visit at any time,” Ultra Magnus says, and pings Ratchet with the exact location of Jazz’s temporary accommodations. 

“I’m not worried about it,” Ratchet says. “The day you start mistreating prisoners is the day I join the Decepticons.” 

“I intend to develop an appeals process that addresses the possibility of official mistreatment within the next seventeen hours,” Ultra Magnus tells him. “Presuming the appeals process is fully implemented, conscientious defection will not be necessary.” 

“Look,” Ratchet starts, then abruptly cuts himself off. “Go ahead and do your checklist already,” he finally says.

Magnus pulls out a datapad and selects Ratchet’s file. “Do you have any feedback you would like to provide regarding your treatment or the treatment of others?” 

“I’m fine,” Ratchet says. “For now, at least.”

Magnus nods, marking the appropriate responses: workstation kept free of obvious hazards, armor adequately cleaned and maintained, acceptable temperament, performing duties as assigned.

“Do you have any updates on Optimus’s condition?” he asks, once the datapad has been put away. 

“Not yet,” Ratchet says, after a moment. “But you can visit, if you’d like.” 

Ultra Magnus does so, entering the private recovery room. He is of course well-advised on Optimus’s condition, but it’s—still somewhat disconcerting. Thick wires erupt from Optimus’s chest, keeping him connected to core support, and much of his paneling has been removed to allow for repairs. Even his face mask, so rarely removed over the course of the war, has been set aside, the gaping wounds across his jaw and lower facial expression components left exposed. His condition has visibly improved since they first moved him into the Decepticon infirmary, but at that time Ratchet had been estimating at least six months of repairs. 

When Optimus had fallen, and it had become clear that the Autobots were not going to win the Battle of Autobot City, command had fallen to Magnus. They could have managed a retreat and continued the war using guerilla tactics, perhaps from the abandoned underlayers of Cybertron—but a general retreat from Earth would have left the humans and their planet to the Decepticons’ mercy. Magnus had decided instead, in a moment of complete, unmatched clarity, to negotiate a surrender that would preserve both human and Autobot lives. It was a kind of systems-wide certainty that Ultra Magnus had never experienced before, and he despairs of ever experiencing again. But Optimus had left Ultra Magnus in command because he knew Magnus would do what needed to be done. 

Magnus places a hand on Optimus’s unmoving arm. He knows from Ratchet’s reports that Optimus is currently unable to process tactile sensation, but he finds himself lingering there anyway. Optimus’s remaining armor is warm, his systems humming with muted activity, self repair working in concert with Ratchet’s carefully integrated core support. 

Afterwards, Ultra Magnus files his completed welfare inspections, then returns to his quarters and spends several hours drafting a formal appeals process that can be integrated into the current Decepticon legal structure. The process itself takes shape quickly, but identifying appropriate individuals in the chain of command proves more challenging. Ultra Magnus records several notes within the document’s editing overlay requesting Soundwave’s input, and provides several preemptive rebuttals to the objections he believes Megatron will likely make. 

When the base computer pings him with a reminder of the roster, he puts away his datapads and attempts to complete his own scheduled rest cycle, but he is unable to initiate one; even after he plugs into his rest unit, his systems are still whirling, emotional subsystem running at maximum resource capacity in an attempt to integrate the day’s events. He cancels out of defrag after only six minutes, left gasping at the sensory image of Optimus rising from his recovery room to shove Ultra Magnus into a closet of extremely insufficient size for Magnus’s physical dimensions.

After his internal temperature and exhaust cycle speed have returned to acceptable levels, Magnus attempts to construct and integrate a logical analysis: as a condition of their surrender, the Autobots have agreed to abide by Decepticon regulations. Decepticon regulations leave punitive measures for code violations to the discrimination of the offending individual’s commanding officer. Therefore, it is acceptable for officers to imprison subordinates in storage closets for— _unproven and untried offenses,_ his emotional subsystem interjects, and the manual integration fails with a sharp stab of pain along his logic circuits. 

Magnus attempts several iterations of the syllogism, but the only reward for his efforts is an increasingly intense throbbing sensation in his logic unit. He knows, intellectually, that his actions have been both perfectly legal and socially acceptable according to Decepticon code and culture, but convincing his moral center to accept that conclusion appears to be beyond his current abilities. When Soundwave pings him after several more fruitless attempts, he rises immediately, grateful for the distraction. 

Ultra Magnus finds Buzzsaw waiting outside of his quarters. 

“Has Soundwave sent you for me?” Ultra Magnus asks him, and Buzzsaw lets out a sharp squawk before starting to fly down the hallway. Magnus follows behind, and as expected, Buzzsaw leads him to the second level, where the Constructions are waiting. Magnus looks around, immediately realizing that they’ve come to a stop at a smooth, uninterrupted section of the hallway, precisely where he’d imprisoned Jazz earlier that day. 

Ultra Magnus nearly believes he’s been taken to the wrong coordinates; he quickly runs a location query, and when the query returns an affirmative result, confirms with a brief scan that the door has indeed been sealed over. 

“The entrance cannot remain inaccessible,” Ultra Magnus says, looking to Scrapper in alarm. 

“Eh, we added an energon drip tube,” Long Haul says, and the others all start snorting with laughter. 

Ultra Magnus glances over at them, appalled, before turning back to Scrapper. “The door must be rebuilt,” he says, urgently. “Jazz must be able to make a complete exit in the event of an emergency. Ratchet must also be able to enter his cell to provide medical care and supervision.”

The other Constructicons fall back into laughter, but Buzzsaw interrupts them with a loud screech, his illumination routines going bright. 

Scrapper cycles his optics rudely. “Shut up,” he tells the others, and then indicates a room further down the hall. “We shifted the door to the adjoining room so there’d be space for a graduated entrance,” he explains. 

Scrapper leads him to the relocated entrance, and much to his relief, Ultra Magnus sees that a door has indeed been installed. The graduated entrance is an unexpected boon, and will allow secure visitation and ration delivery. The Constructicons have also, presumably under Soundwave’s instruction, installed visual monitoring, and a screen outside of the cell shows Jazz lying comfortably on a recharge unit. 

“We’ve got durasteel sheathing around the entire unit, and the doors are interlocked, so the graduated entrance will only open if the cell door is secure, and vice versa,” Scrapper says. “The cell door will only open if he’s plugged into the recharge unit, so no ambushes, either. He’s not going anywhere unless you let him out. Secure monitoring is on a closed system, although Soundwave could bring it in-network if you wanted.” 

“Thank you,” Ultra Magnus tells Scrapper, pleased. The cell appears comfortably appointed as well as secure; a small, secured energon and coolant dispensing unit has been installed next to the recharge unit, and a box of standard amenities has been provided, per Autobot protocol. Likely that last thoughtful addition was made at Soundwave’s instruction. 

“Your assistance in this matter has been invaluable, and the updated security certainly exceeds expectations. I will recommend an additional energon allocation for your hard work,” Magnus continues.

Scrapper stares at him for a moment, but doesn’t respond. 

“Are you serious?” Long Haul asks, just when Ultra Magnus is about to make his excuses and depart. 

“I am always serious,” Magnus assures him. “What is this in regards to?” 

“We already did what you wanted,” Scrapper says, nonsensically. “I’m not running interference with Starscream, if that’s what you think you’re getting out of us for extra energon.”

“I do not expect you to engage with Starscream on my behalf,” Ultra Magnus tells him firmly, somewhat taken aback. “An additional energon allocation is standard for work exceeding the general expectations of your position, and I will recommend one as such.” 

Ultra Magnus waits, but no other responses are forthcoming, so he heads towards his office. He spends a few moments composing a report for Soundwave on the way, as well as submitting the positive energon allocation. Afterwards, he spends several productive hours rescheduling the pending welfare visits, addressing personnel issues, and responding to treaty-related inquiries before returning to work on the draft appeals process. He makes very little progress, however, before receiving a ping requesting his presence in the infirmary. 

Ultra Magnus engages his communications chip. 

“I am attending to other duties at the moment,” Ultra Magnus tells Ratchet. “Is my presence needed urgently?” 

“What do you mean by urgent?” Ratchet asks. “If you mean do I want you to come down now and do datawork later, then yes.” 

“I have my next off-duty shift in seven hours,” Ultra Magnus tells him. Whatever Ratchet’s opinion on datawork may be, proper reporting and documentation is critical to the continued functioning of any military operation, Decepticon _or_ Autobot. 

“Listen, can you just come down to the infirmary already?” Ratchet asks impatiently. “This is more important than whatever report you’re working on.” 

“Very well,” Ultra Magnus concedes, and heads for the officers’ lift. “I will arrive at the infirmary in approximately four astrominutes.” 

“Fine,” Ratchet says, and the connection cuts out. 

As soon as Magnus arrives, Ratchet calls him back into Optimus’s recovery room. 

“We need to talk about Optimus,” Ratchet says, in a rush. “I was hoping I’d come up with something else, but I haven’t, and it can’t be delayed anymore.”

Magnus nods, encouraging.

“I’ve completed most of the necessary repairs, and they’ve integrated well, but there’s—he isn’t going to wake up like this. His prognosis is—” Ratchet cuts off with a brief burst of static, and doesn’t continue. 

Ultra Magnus looks down at Optimus. The damage to his face is glaringly visible, almost difficult to look at. 

“Please continue,” Magnus says, after a moment of silence. “What is your recommended course of action?” 

“I need to remove the Matrix,” Ratchet finally says, grimly serious. “Optimus doesn’t have a medical proxy designated, but you’re our commander, now.” 

Ultra Magnus’s initial reaction is a denial, prompted by his emotional coprocessor, but he cuts power to his vocalizer before the words can come out and follows the prompting of his logic unit instead. 

“I’ll defer to your expertise,” he tells Ratchet. 

Ratchet looks away, running several exhaust cycles before he speaks again. “It has to be done,” he finally decides. “The Matrix is demanding his entire minimum power requirements at a greater rate than his systems are establishing power—Optimus won’t reboot until it’s been fully separated from his systems. But removing the Matrix from a living Prime has never been done before. The backlash might cause a critical reactor event.” 

“You cannot insulate his power core?” Magnus asks. 

“No,” Ratchet says. “The integration is too deep. The Matrix—it was never meant to be removed. Optimus was rebuilt around it. Even if his critical components aren’t fatally damaged, his core is going to re-initialize, and his personality won’t—he won’t—” Ratchet cuts off again, unable to maintain his professional demeanor. 

Attempting to leave Ratchet his dignity, Ultra Magnus turns and looks down again at Optimus’s face. Optimus had once confided in Magnus that he retained only the vaguest impression of his former self. Magnus himself has experienced the same, and whatever regret he felt for Dion’s loss has long been overshadowed by sheer necessity. He steels himself to accept what must be done. 

“Ratchet, if the removal of the Matrix is necessary, then you must remove it,” Magnus says. 

“I’m not going to be able to return the Matrix to him,” Ratchet warns. “I’ll have to reroute his core power supply, and depending on how it integrates…” He shakes his head. “I can’t risk two re-initializations in a row.” 

“If we must find another to take the Matrix, then we will do so,” Magnus tells him. It is the only option. “Optimus did not predict this outcome in time to select a successor, but another candidate will be found nonetheless.” 

“It gets worse,” Ratchet says. “I’ve had to replace the physical hardware for most of his memory structure. You know that during a reinitialization, the core memory is reset, and the memories retained from the prior persona are experienced at a distance.”

Ultra Magnus nods; the explanation is certainly consistent with his own experience.

“I intended to repopulate his memory on the new hardware from core backup, but that method is incompatible with a reinitialization,” Ratchet says. “I can attempt to provide him with the base data, but I won’t be able to retain experiential memory. Trying to would be like implanting a false memory into his archive; we’d be risking disruption of his reality matrix function.” 

Magnus hadn’t even considered the possibility, but it stands to reason that a neurosurgeon of Ratchet’s caliber might have been able to restore Optimus’s archival record, given the chance. Certainly no such talent had been involved in Magnus’s own reinitialization. To know now that the possibility _does_ exist, but not for Optimus— 

Magnus turns away, running a quiet exhaust cycle. But the most beneficial course of action has not changed. 

“You must move forward regardless,” Magnus says. 

Ratchet cancels his optical illumination routines, bending heavily over Optimus’s prone form, but after a long moment he nods. 

“You should bring Jazz up to say goodbye,” he adds, his vocalizer gone rough and staticy once more. “Whoever this mech is, after the Matrix is gone—this is everyone’s last chance to see Optimus.” 

“Jazz has been detained on the basis of criminal intent,” Ultra Magnus says. “He still intends to enact his plan, if given the opportunity.” 

“I think I can talk him out of it,” Ratchet says, with a sharp, unhappy laugh. 

Magnus is less confident, but he nods agreement anyways, accepting the necessity of compassionate leave in this situation. Privately, he resolves to find appropriate restraints for the occasion. 

He returns to his office, intending to complete his work on the appeals process, but he finds himself unable to fully concentrate. Despite manually forcing his emotional routines out of frontal processing to avoid interruption, he cannot prevent his emotional subsystem from continually pre-empting resources as it processes subconsciously. 

Finally, Magnus determines that it is time to attend to Jazz. He sends Soundwave a brief update on his progress, and on Optimus’s condition, which he feels he cannot rightly conceal. Then, as Jazz is unable to receive communications, Magnus goes to speak with him in person, following the appropriate procedures to enter the secured inner cell. 

“Here to gloat?” Jazz asks. His arms are crossed tightly against his chest. 

“No,” Ultra Magnus says, shortly. “Are the environmental settings inadequate? You are demonstrating discomfort.” 

“What are you talkin’ about?” Jazz demands. “Nevermind, I don’t care. What’re you doin’ in here?” 

“Ratchet has asked that I apprise you of the current situation. Prowl has improved sufficiently to be removed from supportive stasis,” Magnus says. “Ratchet intends to do so this week.” 

“What else,” Jazz asks, flatly, when Ultra Magnus does not continue. 

“Optimus’s condition has—not improved. Ratchet must remove the Matrix. This will certainly trigger reinitialization, and may result in core containment failure.” 

Magnus waits for Jazz to react, but when he only sits frozen still, unspeaking, Magnus continues. “Per Ratchet’s instructions, I will establish a visitation time for you prior to the procedure.” 

Jazz says nothing else, so Magnus takes his leave, carefully securing the cell behind him. When he exits the graduated entrance, Soundwave is waiting for him. 

“Message received,” Soundwave says. “Query: removal of Matrix, has been scheduled?” 

“Ratchet will inform me when it is,” Ultra Magnus tells him, shaking his head. “If you’ve come to inquire about the appeals process, the draft is at approximately ninety percent completion.” 

“Negative,” Soundwave says, and Magnus waits for him to say what he _is_ here for, but Soundwave twists suddenly to look at the surveillance screen outside of Jazz’s cell. 

Magnus turns around to look as well, and is horrified to see Jazz _—destroying_ his cell: the small box of standard amenities has already gone flying, and Jazz is starting in on the coolant dispenser, ripping the tubing out and then attacking the casing. 

“What is he _doing?”_ Magnus asks, aghast. He presses the intercom button. “Jazz, stop this immediately.” 

Jazz does _not_ desist; instead, he begins attacking his rest unit. Ultra Magnus looks over at Soundwave, who is watching the video feed calmly. 

Soundwave watches the screen for another moment before finally turning back. “Behavior concerning.” 

On the external video feed, Magnus watches as Jazz actually manages to _overturn_ his rest unit. Afterward, he just stands there, panting hard, surrounded by the scraps of destroyed tubing and maintenance supplies scattered wildly around the cell. The health monitor on the bottom corner of the screen flashes yellow, followed by a small symbol indicating a potentially concerning increase in core temperature. 

“The rest unit was rated above his maximum independent lift capacity,” Ultra Magnus says, after a long moment staring at the image on the screen. He starts to enter the cell, but Soundwave stops him with a hand on his arm. 

“Jazz, experiencing distress,” Soundwave explains. “Suggestion: additional time required to successfully integrate information.” 

“The cell cannot remain in this condition,” Magnus protests. “The overturned rest unit is a safety hazard.” 

“Position of rest unit not optimal, but stable,” Soundwave says. “Jazz’s next recommended rest cycle: nine hours from now. If Ultra Magnus enters cell at this time, probability of violent confrontation: significant. Additional stress to emotional subsystem, certain. Action, not recommended.” 

Magnus looks back at the video feed, torn, but his logic unit informs him implacably that Jazz will not be better served by additional conflict at this time, despite the potential danger of the overturned rest unit. 

“Very well,” he says, to Soundwave, and then composes a brief message to Ratchet informing him of the necessity for a medical visit at his convenience; although the medical alert is no longer flashing, indicating Jazz’s core temperature has returned to standard operating parameters, Ultra Magnus thinks it prudent to confirm that Jazz’s destructive behavior has not resulted in additional damage. 

He intends to return to his office and complete the regulatory framework for the appeals process, but instead he finds himself standing blankly and unproductively outside of Jazz’s cell, not even monitoring the video feed. His emotional coprocessor issues a request for additional system resources, which he denies. 

“Observation: Jazz, not only Autobot in distress,” Soundwave says, after a long moment. He looks over at Ultra Magnus calmly, visor glowing a dull red. 

Magnus looks away, uncertain, and after another few astroseconds Soundwave reaches out, laying a hand on Magnus’s arm. 

“Suggestion: provide partially completed draft appeals process to Soundwave for comment,” he says. “Soundwave, will review now, provide input for completion.” 

Ultra Magnus starts to shake his head—his work hasn’t been fully prepared for review—but his emotional coprocessor issues another request for resources, flagged for immediate action. He pauses. 

“I will return to my office and forward the draft to you now,” Magnus finally says. 

Soundwave nods and departs. Ultra Magnus leaves as well, after one last glance at the monitoring feed: Jazz is lying curled up in the middle of the cell, his face hidden against the floor. 

Ultra Magnus returns to his office, and as promised, sends the partially completed draft to Soundwave for review. He spends some additional time on his other responsibilities; as part of the surrender agreement, he is responsible for a variety of administrative functions, and there are several pending changes to the Autobot roster requiring his approval. He also has a number of welfare checks remaining to reschedule. 

It takes only a few hours, however, to realize that his efficiency ratings have been reduced to unacceptable levels. The unwelcome but obvious conclusion is that the continuing drain on resources from his emotional coprocessor, as well as the missed rest cycle from earlier, are impairing systems functionality. Accepting the necessity of it, Magnus adjusts his schedule on the roster to account for the necessary rest cycle and plugs into his recharge unit. 

He wakes to an emergency summons from First Aid flashing loudly in frontal processing. 

“You have to stop Ratchet,” First Aid says frantically, when Magnus engages his communications array. “Megatron is going to kill him!” 

Ultra Magnus, already out of his quarters and halfway down the hallway, increases his speed. “Report on the current situation,” he demands. Ultra Magnus had not specifically intended to inform Megatron of Ratchet’s new treatment plan, but what Soundwave knows, Megatron soon finds out. Ultra Magnus fears, suddenly and inexplicably, that Megatron has chosen to destroy Optimus himself, rather than allow his reinitialization. 

“Megatron came to visit Optimus and Ratchet is trying to throw him out,” First Aid says. “I don’t think—I can’t—”

“Maintain calm,” Ultra Magnus says. “Estimated time of arrival, one minute, thirty-seven astroseconds.” As soon as the lift arrives at the correct floor, Ultra Magnus speeds down the hallway and into the infirmary, rushing past First Aid. He transforms, prepared to take immediate action, but Megatron and Ratchet are both standing silently outside of Optimus’s recovery room, staring balefully at each other. Apparently the altercation has paused. 

“Do either of you require assistance?” Ultra Magnus inquires. 

“He _claims_ to be here to visit Optimus,” Ratchet hisses. “And I already told him, it’s _my_ infirmary.” 

“The surrender agreement specifically notes that Megatron has full access to the infirmary,” Ultra Magnus reminds Ratchet. “Has Optimus’s condition degraded so far he can no longer safely tolerate visitors?” 

Ratchet crosses his arms over his chest. “No,” he spits out, eventually, and looks away unhappily. 

“Then Megatron must be permitted visitation, per our agreement,” Ultra Magnus tells him, reasonably. 

Grudgingly, Ratchet removes the medical quarantine he’d established on the recovery room, looking pointedly away from both of them. Megatron steps silently inside, and rests a hand on Optimus’s lower shin armor. Ratchet and Ultra Magnus both follow him in, filling the small space nearly to capacity. 

“This isn’t how I imagined it would end,” Megatron says, after a long moment. 

“You _did_ this,” Ratchet accuses, clearly incensed, and grabs a bonder off a nearby table with obvious intent to throw. Magnus dives forward, grabbing Ratchet’s arm to physically restrain him before he violates their surrender agreement by attacking Megatron.

Megatron, however, is unfazed. “I did,” he says, ignoring the threatened projectile, and he stands there looking silently down at Optimus for several long moments. Magnus quietly confiscates the bonder. 

“Do you plan to reinstall the Matrix?” Megatron asks. 

“No,” Ratchet tells him shortly, optics bright. “It would take another reinitialization. This one is enough of a gamble—another would almost certainly trigger a critical excursion.”

Megatron runs a quiet exhaust cycle before stepping back from Optimus’s repair bed. “However little I cared for his politics, there’s no denying that Optimus Prime was a great warrior,” he eventually says, to Ultra Magnus. He claps a hand on Magnus’s shoulder and squeezes once before letting go. “Whoever this new mech turns out to be, I expect he will prove equally capable.”

Magnus remains still, his motivator unable to generate an appropriate response. After another long moment, Megatron shakes his head firmly, illumination routines flaring with some unknown emotion. “Soundwave tells me you have regulatory changes to propose,” he says. “Route them through Shockwave, and then we’ll discuss.” 

With that, Megatron turns and walks out of the infirmary, and Ratchet stands staring at the door for a full astrominute before turning back to Magnus. 

“He—why would he—” Ratchet manages, vocalizer harsh with emotion, then cuts himself off, shaking.

Ultra Magnus is not able to offer a response. He returns Ratchet’s bonder with a mild warning and exits the infirmary. 

Magnus’s rest cycle was incomplete, and the remainder of his duty cycle is still pending in the roster, but he does not return to his quarters or to his office; instead, he exits the lift at the next level up. The placement of Jazz’s rest unit is not yet critical, but Magnus believes there has been sufficient time for Jazz’s emotional subsystem to return to a state of equilibrium. 

Fortunately, the monitor screen shows Jazz sitting listlessly against the wall, no longer lying on the floor or engaging in destructive behavior. 

Magnus announces his presence over the intercom, and Jazz immediately transitions to glaring at the camera. 

“What’re you doin’ back here?” he spits out. 

“I must ensure that your rest unit is both operational and returned to the proper position,” Magnus explains, as he enters the first compartment. “Please connect to the rest unit at this time.” 

He issues the command for the inner lock to release, but the door remains closed. Magnus consults the surveillance feed and sees the cause. 

“Jazz, you must connect to the rest unit,” Ultra Magnus reminds him, over the intercom. “The inner doors will not open until you do.” 

“Can’t,” Jazz says. “Cable’s broken.”

Ultra Magnus checks the surveillance feed again, where Jazz does appear to be attempting to connect to the rest unit; it is not unlikely that the unit would have sustained some minor damage when overturned. Almost certainly repairable, but not without the appropriate tools. A quick subspace monitoring routine confirms that Magnus’s standard repair kit is available. 

“Very well,” Magnus says. “Stand back from the doorway.” He enters his encryption key and confirms his identification frequency with the base computer, then approves the override on the interlocking door seal. 

He checks the feed once more, and sees that Jazz is standing back as instructed. Satisfied, Ultra Magnus opens the door. 

Jazz comes bursting through the doorway a microsecond later; Ultra Magnus immediately plants himself in front of the outer door, attempting to block access, but Jazz is broadcasting— _Ultra Magnus’s identification frequency,_ Magnus realizes, to his dismay—and the door opens anyway. Magnus grabs for him and manages to capture an ankle, but he is unwilling to crush the joint, and Jazz destabilizes Magnus’s balance and slips out of his grasp. Jazz is out of the room and already tearing down the hallway by the time Magnus manages to stagger upright. 

Ravage is waiting when Magnus steps out of the cell; presumably he had been concealed in the outer room performing surveillance. He looks at Magnus, and then pointedly in the direction where Jazz disappeared. 

“Yes,” Magnus says, exasperated. “He will have to be recaptured.” He stifles a pang of guilt, knowing that if the pending appeals process had been implemented, Jazz would have had an alternative to escape—but now that he has done so, the actions Magnus must take are clear. Quickly, he heads for the officers’ armory, intending to acquire a stasis field generator before he heads to the infirmary. 

Ravage considers that, following behind, then puts out a mic. _“Assistance required?”_

“Not at this time,” Magnus says. “Thank you. I will notify Soundwave if it becomes necessary.” 

Magnus sends a preemptive alert to Ratchet and First Aid as he moves. He is only rarely able to predict Jazz’s behavior—generally his actions are nonsensical at best—but assuming that Jazz intends to enact his confessed plan, it is critical that Magnus stops him in time. 

After collecting the stasis generator and concealing it in his subspace, Magnus rushes directly towards the infirmary; quiet entrances are not his talent, and Magnus makes no attempt to conceal his entrance. Inside, he finds Jazz attempting to drag a struggling Ratchet out of the infirmary. 

“Jazz, stop this,” Magnus commands. He locks the entrance behind him, then queues up a command sequence to engage the stasis generator, careful not to activate it just yet. With Jazz, he knows he only has one chance to successfully activate it; if Jazz manages to avoid the stasis field once, the element of surprise will be lost, and it will almost certainly inspire retaliatory action. 

Jazz ignores him, still dragging Ratchet, and only stops when Magnus aims an energy weapon in his direction. 

“What, gonna shoot me?” Jazz asks. “Go ahead, _traitor._ ” He pulls his own energy weapon without pause, and manages to get Ratchet up against the wall. Ratchet scowls at him. 

“Jazz, listen to Magnus,” Ratchet says. “There’s no need for all this.” 

“Be quiet, doc,” Jazz says, keeping his focus on Ultra Magnus. 

Magnus remains still, unsure whether he should attempt to call Jazz’s bluff. It seems unlikely that Jazz would actually shoot Ratchet, since he presumably still intends to kidnap him for medical care—but his emotional coprocessor is clearly overloaded, and beyond that Magnus has often found that Jazz takes unlikely and poorly thought out risks. Even without intent to cause permanent damage, energy weapon discharge at such close range could well cause serious injury. 

“Jazz,” Ratchet tries again. “Prowl is going to be okay. Is this about Optimus?” He tries to move out of Jazz’s hold, but Jazz pulls him back up against the wall almost instantly. 

Jazz’s optics are flaring wildly. “We can talk about it on the shuttle,” he says, and his grip on the energy weapon visibly tightens as he keeps it aimed at Ratchet. “Back off, Magnus. I’m takin’ him, and I’m takin’ Optimus and Prowl, an’ we’re gettin’ out of here. The rest of you can stay here and play happy families with the Decepticons forever for all I care.” 

“Jazz,” Magnus starts, wishing suddenly that Prowl was out of stasis; Prowl has always been significantly more skilled at hostage negotiation, and at managing Jazz. “Prowl and Optimus Prime must remain on base, per our surrender agreement. If you would like to petition for new terms, a written request can be submitted to me or to Soundwave through official channels.” 

“You’re going to kill him!” Jazz yells. “He’s goin’ to die and all you care about is your new Decepticon boyfriend. Don’t fraggin’ tell me to submit a _request._ Optimus never would’ve surrendered, none of this would’ve even happened if it wasn’t for you!” 

Magnus’s emotional subsystem issues a sudden demand for additional resources, temporarily interrupting combat mode and disengaging his tactical coprocessor. Ultra Magnus denies the request without review, unable to risk moving his attention from Jazz, but his systems immediately follow up with a painful resource misallocation alert in central processing. 

“If Ultra Magnus hadn’t surrendered, Optimus _would_ have died, and Prowl would have, too,” Ratchet says, fierce and apparently unconcerned by the energy weapon aimed at his head. “I don’t like living with Decepticons any more than you do, but surrender gave us the chance to save them.” 

Magnus is still attempting to prepare a response to Jazz’s accusations when the infirmary door suddenly slides open, despite the override Ultra Magnus put on the lock. 

“Yo, the boss says you might need—” Rumble cuts himself off when he sees Jazz holding Ratchet up against the wall. 

Jazz looks over briefly, just a bare microsecond of distraction—but a microsecond is all Ultra Magnus needs. Ultra Magnus engages the stasis generator, trapping Jazz and Ratchet in their current positions, with the energy weapon still held against Ratchet’s helm. 

“Rumble, go remove the energy weapon,” Ultra Magnus commands. “Quickly,” he adds, when Rumble doesn’t move. At its current power level, the stasis field he’s generated is unsafe to maintain for more than seventy-five astroseconds. 

“Sure thing,” Rumble says, scrambling over, and Ultra Magnus’s systems register a small-scale protective electromagnetic field engaging.

“Careful,” he warns, as the protective field briefly encapsulates Jazz’s hand, but Rumble has the weapon and is backing up out of the way before Jazz manages more than a finger twitch. 

Magnus immediately reduces the power output of the stasis field, and Jazz and Ratchet both relax, armor clattering as the stasis field releases them from a full-function hold. 

“Ugh,” Ratchet says, twisting his head back and forth to stretch his neck support cables. “I hate these things.” 

“Jazz, are you prepared to surrender?” Ultra Magnus asks. “I would like to fully release the stasis field.” 

“Try it,” Jazz says, sneering. 

“Come on,” Ratchet says. “You know he isn’t going to let you take off with anyone. Why don’t you tell me something reasonable that you want. You want to see Prowl?”

Jazz shakes his head sluggishly, still under the effect of the status field. 

Ratchet looks at Jazz for a moment, and then shakes his own head. He reaches slowly for Jazz’s shoulder. “Jazz, I know this is hard to hear, but if Magnus hadn’t surrendered, Prowl would be gone. A lot of us would be. And Optimus wouldn’t be getting his second chance at life at _all._ ”

Jazz stares mulishly at the floor, unresponsive. Magnus takes a step forward, intending to intercede, but Ratchet glares at him when he moves. 

“I wanna be here,” Jazz says suddenly. “When he—reinitializes.” 

“That is not possible,” Ultra Magnus tells him sternly. “You will be returned to custody, and Optimus has not given consent for your presence during his medical procedures.” 

Ratchet just sighs heavily. “Jazz, if I let you stay in the infirmary during his reinitialization tomorrow, will you go quietly with Ultra Magnus? And stay where he puts you?” 

Jazz shifts around, shrugging his shoulders, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Promise me, Jazz,” Ratchet pushes. 

“Ratchet,” Magnus protests. “The issue of medical consent remains regardless of Jazz’s agreement.” 

“It’s my infirmary,” Ratchet says, “and _I’m_ the one who decides who’s present for medical procedures, and who isn’t. There’s plenty of precedent for that. Be quiet and let me deal with Jazz.” 

Magnus does remotely access the legal archive, but Ratchet is correct—with Optimus unconscious and unable to be roused, there is significant precedent indicating that the responsible medical officer makes the final consent determination regarding witnesses.

“Alright,” Jazz says. “It’s a deal.” 

“Promise me,” Ratchet repeats.

“I promise,” Jazz mutters. 

“You too,” Ratchet says, turning to Magnus. 

“You have my word,” Ultra Magnus tells Jazz. “So long as you come peacefully now, and remain in custody until I release you, then you will be permitted to attend the reinitialization.” 

“Fine,” Jazz says, and sullenly holds out his hands when directed. 

Out of an abundance of caution, Magnus sets the stasis cuffs to the maximum safe setting for Jazz’s weight class and power rating, and Jazz slumps down to the ground, systems no longer generating enough power for independent movement. 

Rumble comes over and pats Jazz on the arm sympathetically. “Better luck next time,” he says. Jazz shocks him with one of the electromagnetic plates on his forearm, and Rumble jumps back. “Hey!” 

“Enough,” Ultra Magnus warns, bending down and scooping Jazz up for transport. Jazz attempts to shock him as well, but Magnus’s systems easily dispel the electric charge. 

“I’ll let you know when it’s time for the reinitialization,” Ratchet says. He lets out a long stream of exhaust, then shakes his head. “And I better not see you before then,” he warns, shaking a finger at Jazz. 

Magnus nods; he has spent entirely too much time in the infirmary lately, despite his own lack of injury. He hoists Jazz up into his arms and takes his leave, Rumble following behind. 

The Constructicons are already finishing up the repairs in Jazz’s cell when they arrive. 

“Thank you for the quick response,” Ultra Magnus tells them. “I presume Soundwave informed you of the situation.” 

“If you’re tryin’ to blame us for this,” Bonecrusher starts, belligerently, but Magnus shakes his head. 

“The error was mine,” Magnus explains. “I allowed Jazz to convince me that the rest unit was not properly operational, and overrode the security features on the inner door.” 

Bonecrusher snorts. “Well, I coulda told you that wouldn’t work out.” 

“Shut up,” Scrapper tells him. “Ultra Magnus, everything’s back the way it was.” 

“The rest unit is fully operational?”

“Yes.” 

“Thank you,” Magnus says again. “I appreciate your assistance in this matter.” 

He gets Jazz safely secured in his cell once more, and takes his leave, intending to return the stasis generator to the armory and then finally complete a rest cycle for the first time in over seventy-two hours. He expects Rumble to report back to Soundwave, but instead, Rumble follows him all the way back to his quarters.

“Hey,” Rumble says, before Magnus can step inside. “Are you and the boss really—ya know—”

Magnus waits patiently for him to finish his sentence, and Rumble flares hot on infrared. 

“Normally he only interfaces with Megatron,” Rumble blurts out, nonsensically. 

Magnus’s gross motor systems come to a sudden halt. “Are you certain Soundwave would want you to share that with me?” Magnus manages, after a moment. 

“...No,” Rumble says. “Forget I said that. I gotta go, bye!” 

He runs off, and Magnus is left staring down the corridor after him, unable to explain that he cannot delete memories without significant medical intervention. Uncertain what to make of the conversation he just had with Rumble, he shifts it into subconscious processing for analysis, and finally is able to engage his servos and enter his quarters. 

Magnus ends up initiating his rescheduled duty cycle a few hours early; his emotional subsystem has finally retreated fully into sublevel processing, outside of conscious awareness, and despite the drain on resources, he feels as if the easy calm and concentration of battle has fallen upon him. 

Soundwave’s annotated review of the draft appeals process is waiting for him in his assignment queue, but as Magnus reviews the document, he finds an entirely new structure taking place in his mind. Under the current system, officers are expected to personally enforce any punishments they might hand down, and any mech believing his punishment unjust may take direct action against it, depending on his own strength and ability. Informally, however, those handing out punishments are able to call upon others for assistance, creating an unbalanced punitive structure which incentivizes escape attempts calculated for maximum destruction. 

Magnus had been attempting to shoehorn a limited administrative appeals process into the existing structure, but he sees now that it is ultimately incompatible with the underlying principles of Decepticon justice. 

He redrafts the proposal to establish a formalized tribunal process: a right to the examination of facts in all cases exceeding the limits of standard administrative authority, including indefinite imprisonment, and defined opportunities for formal challenge—in court or by combat—in case of an unfavorable outcome. After a moment’s reflection, he also requires independent sign offs from lateral staff as a case proceeds through the command structure, to ensure frivolous claims are not pursued beyond their scale. 

If implemented, the proposed measures will require dedicated staff, but Magnus devises a brief cost-benefit analysis calculating the current strain on resources and the expected reduction in resources spent on provision of medical services and repair of structures damaged in escape attempts, as well as command staff time spent on direct containment. 

Ultra Magnus forwards the proposal to Soundwave, requesting his approval before he routes it to Shockwave, and pings the base computer for the roster; he finds that he’s been working non-stop for nearly seven hours, and is well-overdue for a rest cycle before he begins his next scheduled round of welfare checks. This time, when he plugs into his rest unit, he denies the system request for a defrag cycle, and slips gratefully into recharge mode. 

After Jazz’s escape attempt, Ultra Magnus isn’t taking any chances. He requisitions a set of extendable durasteel restraints, and attaches one end to Jazz, and the other to his own arm. Only once Jazz has been fully restrained does he signal Soundwave to release the lock on the inner door. 

“You’re wastin’ your time,” Jazz complains, as Magnus adjusts his stride to match Jazz’s pace. “I already promised I wasn’t goin’ anywhere.” He jerks at the chain connecting them, and Magnus is forced to stop to avoid overbalancing. 

“Jazz: behave,” Soundwave warns, before Ultra Magnus can issue a reprimand. “Alternative: be carried.” 

Jazz cycles his optics rudely. “Try it.” 

Soundwave only looks at him, visor flaring cryptically, and turns and walks for the door. Magnus follows behind him, Jazz tugging impatiently at the chain. 

“Soundwave: will remain here,” Soundwave says when they arrive, stopping just inside of the infirmary. Optimus has already been relocated to the main surgical unit.

“Don’t wanna have to look him in the face?” Jazz accuses. 

“Optimus Prime: not Soundwave’s leader,” Soundwave says. “Presence during reinitialization, inappropriate. Suggestion: Jazz, Ultra Magnus, proceed to operating room.” 

First Aid comes out only an astrosecond later. “Ratchet’s ready for you,” he says, and leads them inside. 

Optimus is laid out on the surgery table, cables and tubing connecting him to power and energon supplies. His injuries have been fully repaired, new plating gleaming brightly in contrast to what little original plating survived—even his lower facial expression components, damaged beyond repair in the first millennium of the war, have been replaced in preparation for reinitialization. His chest panels are already held open. 

“Where’s Prowl?” Jazz demands. 

“He didn’t want to be present for the reinitialization,” Ratchet says. “But he’s doing well after coming out of stasis. You can see him afterwards.” 

Jazz doesn’t seem fully appeased, but Ratchet doesn’t give him a chance to argue. 

“Alright, either quiet down or get out. I’m going to remove the Matrix now, before Megatron shows up and starts demanding to be let in.”

Ratchet moves quickly, and he and First Aid get the Matrix extracted almost instantly, First Aid levering it up out of Optimus’s chassis, and Ratchet quickly connecting the core support structures hidden underneath to his machines. Optimus’s optics go completely dark, even background illumination gone now, and there is only the sound of the surrounding machinery. 

“Give him a power boost on my count,” Ratchet says, deep in Optimus’s chest. “Three, two, one,” and there is a terrible metallic crunching sound before First Aid triggers the energon connection. The two of them jump back as power comes surging through, perceptible even to Magnus’s standard sensor suite. 

There is a long moment where nothing happens; Magnus leans forward, nearly reaching out and only aborting the motion after his servos have already activated. But then finally there comes the faint whirr of low-level power activation, and Optimus’s illumination routines start powering up. The monitoring screens from the connected scanners start displaying numerical readouts again. 

“Oh, thank Primus,” Ratchet says, sagging. 

Optimus rolls his head to the side, and Ratchet begins extricating him from the surrounding machinery. 

“Can you tell us your designation?” Ratchet asks, efficiently removing Optimus from the tangle of tubes and wires.

Optimus sits silently for a moment, optics slowly brightening to full output. Finally, he activates his vocalizer. “I am Optronix Maximus.” 

“We’re all glad to see you awake, Optronix,” Ratchet says, helping Optimus— _Optronix—_ into an upright position. “Although you’re going to have to take it easy for a couple of days. I’m already seeing some systems strain.” 

Optronix nods, and Magnus can hear his systems audibly whirring, presumably attempting to establish equilibrium in this new form. 

“What is my function?” he asks, after a moment. 

Ratchet laughs, but the sound is oddly choked. 

“You don’t got one,” Jazz interrupts. “You get to decide, just like the rest of us.” 

Optronix takes this in for another long moment, then nods. He looks around, and his gaze settles on Ultra Magnus. 

“Dion?” Optronix asks. 

Magnus shakes his head. “My designation is Ultra Magnus,” he says, and then realizes—“Optronix, do you—did you retain your archival records?” 

Optronix shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I have the preloaded archives, and some base data, but not anything from my—previous personas. The war is over?” 

“Yes,” Ultra Magnus says. “Ratchet should have provided you a copy of the surrender agreement.” 

Optronix nods, and lies back down, illumination routines already dim with exhaustion. “Apologies,” he says. “My systems—I believe I am in need of a rest cycle.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Ratchet says. “You’re injured, and you just went through reinitialization. Take a rest cycle. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Jazz darts suddenly away, the chain connecting them nearly jerking Magnus along as well.

“Jazz,” Ultra Magnus scolds, but Jazz shakes his head wildly, straining towards the door. 

“Let me _go,”_ Jazz says, and Magnus looks helplessly over at Ratchet, but Ratchet is still focused on Optronix. 

Magnus escorts Jazz out into the main infirmary, and Soundwave comes up quietly, offering to transfer the restraints. After a moment’s consideration, Ultra Magnus agrees. Jazz tenses dangerously, but Magnus is careful to maintain two points of connection at all times, and any potential escape is safely thwarted. 

“Soundwave: will escort Jazz to Prowl,” Soundwave says. 

Ultra Magnus nods agreement, and returns to the operating room, where Ratchet is standing silently leaned over Optronix. Magnus moves to stand beside him. 

“Megatron sent me a comm,” Ratchet says, bitterly. “He wants to visit.” 

Magnus nods, unsurprised—Soundwave will have told Megatron by now that Optronix has woken. “I can facilitate his visit,” he offers. “You would not need to be present, if Optronix is stable enough to tolerate visitors without medical supervision.” 

“Thanks,” Ratchet says. “But I can handle it.” He stares down at Optronix for a few minutes, silent. 

“You’re sure you won’t give it a try?” He asks abruptly, gesturing to the Matrix where it sits exposed on an empty exam table. “I know you don’t think of yourself this way, but you’re a good leader, Magnus.” 

Ultra Magnus can only shake his head. The Matrix is meant for a leader that can unite all of Cybertron—meant for a visionary and a diplomat, not a warrior like Ultra Magnus. And although Magnus will serve when no alternative exists, he has never desired to lead.

“I will lead the search for the next candidate,” Magnus says. “The Matrix itself will signal when a worthy leader has been found.” 

Ratchet nods, accepting this without argument, and they both stand watching Optronix’s recharging form for a long moment. 

“The name ‘Optronix’ retains linguistic structures from both of his previous designations,” Ultra Magnus observes. “Was that an expected outcome?”

“Not as such,” Ratchet says, “but there’s not a lot of data available on reinitialization, and especially not on multiple reinitializations. The core doesn’t have a physical memory structure in the way we understand it, but it’s clear that—something must remain.” He turns away, but not before Magnus sees the lubricant starting to trickle down his face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I need a moment.” 

Magnus looks away quietly. “I must attend to Jazz,” he says after a while, excusing himself. “Please notify me if you require assistance with Megatron’s visit,” he adds, and leaves to find Soundwave. 

He finds them in a recovery room, where Soundwave is allowing Jazz to interact with Prowl under his watchful supervision. The interaction seems to mostly consist of Prowl attempting to delay a rest cycle—his illumination routines are dimming and brightening every few astroseconds—and Jazz sitting beside him glaring balefully at Soundwave. 

“It is time to depart,” Ultra Magnus says, expecting to encounter some resistance, but Jazz just turns to Prowl and tells him to get some rest, and then submits to being escorted to his cell without making any further escape attempts or even any snide remarks. Ultra Magnus notices with some exasperation that he does not yank at the chain connecting him to _Soundwave._

After Jazz has been secured, they return to the officers’ level, and they both stop at the entrance to Soundwave’s quarters. Soundwave simply opens the door and waits, expectant. Ultra Magnus steps inside. 

It’s been a long time since Magnus last felt the urge to interface, but Rumble’s bizarre questioning comes suddenly to mind, and the burst of desire hits him instantly, overwhelming. When he turns to Soundwave, Soundwave only nods, not seeming to need any explanation. 

Soundwave’s rest unit isn’t large enough for the both of them, so they lie down on the floor together, and Magnus opens up a neural access port on his left side. Soundwave opens a port of his own, and Ultra Magnus dips a thumb in, carefully jumpstarting lubrication routines, before extending a cable and plugging in. 

Soundwave completes the connection, a thrill of activated pleasure circuitry rushing suddenly through Magnus’s systems. His mask comes snapping open of its own accord, but of course Soundwave is unable to reciprocate. Still, Magnus cannot help but lean in, mouthing wetly at Soundwave’s jaw, and Soundwave raises a hand to pull him closer. 

Magnus opens up neural access in a desperate surge, and Soundwave reciprocates without hesitation, sending Magnus tumbling into the hot smooth rush of his systems. An Autobot partner would start carefully activating Magnus’s pleasure circuitry, but Soundwave doesn’t bother, dragging Magnus instead deeper onto his hardware, not waiting for Magnus to adjust to the shock of systems interchange before he starts his own exploration. 

Soundwave’s mind is tightly focused, much as Magnus might have expected, a thousand simultaneous processes running in concert even as Magnus comes bumbling in interrupting the delicate threads. The sensation is startling, unlike any interface Magnus has ever experienced before. Magnus knew that Decepticons are built without core empathy modules—it’s the defining difference in their brain structures—but he didn’t anticipate what it would feel like, the profound intimacy of a systems connection without core interface hardware to interpret the experience. He feels set adrift; he can interpret nothing, and yet at the same time, he feels almost as if Soundwave’s experience is being generated from his own core. 

Soundwave starts busily running through all of Magnus’s processes, triggering pleasure circuitry after all, even if only tangentially. Magnus attempts to return the favor, but his systems are overwhelmed by the flood of activity coming from Soundwave, returning a constant series of null results as they attempt to make sense of _Soundwave’s_ processes, which are impossible to understand without core interpretation. Soundwave’s own systems seize the opportunity to make use of Magnus’s specialized emotional components, and the sudden activity topples the wall Magnus has made around his emotional subsystem, and it all comes suddenly pouring through. 

Ultra Magnus nearly cancels neural access in a panic, but then Soundwave _does_ deliberately trigger his pleasure circuitry, all of it at once in an increasingly powerful causal sequence. A rush of pure pleasure comes cascading over, mirrored by Soundwave’s secondary experience, and that lights up his _emotional_ circuitry, too, swiftly pushing his systems toward maximum resource capacity. Magnus lets out a gasp as overload comes crashing through him, and Soundwave grips him tight as it overtakes _him_ , too. 

They lay there for a while, Soundwave as still and inscrutable as always, Magnus panting heavily and attempting to regain control over his overwhelmed emotional subsystem. 

Soundwave eventually breaks the silence. “Observation: Optronix Maximus, successfully initialized. Ultra Magnus, still experiencing distress.” 

Ultra Magnus tries to express relief that the reinitialization was successful, and that the damage did not prove completely fatal, but he cannot bring himself to do so; his vocalizer produces only a short burst of static. Ultra Magnus is completely unable to speak for another moment more, and when his vocal unit reboots what comes out is—

“Optimus isn’t going to be able to review my negotiated surrender agreement.”

Soundwave nods, silent. He holds out a hand, which Magnus grabs onto in desperation as his systems release a sudden wave of grief along his still-tender emotional circuitry, unexpected and sharply painful. Still Soundwave says nothing. He only pulls Magnus close, and lets him lean into the warm steady hum of his quiet presence. 

#

Magnus wakes to an alert from the base computer: his presence is required in the command center. Beside him, Soundwave is also awake, and Magnus sees that he has also been scheduled to attend the impromptu meeting. 

Magnus would prefer to have warning, but the past several months working under Megatron have taught him to expect this sort of ad hoc scheduling. It has required only minimal changes to his established methods; Optimus, too, often changed the schedule abruptly and without warning, although unlike Megatron, he did not do so with the intentions of catching Ultra Magnus unprepared. 

“Shockwave forwarded your proposal to me,” Megatron says, as soon as they walk in. “You’ve convinced him—he confirmed your cost analysis—but you haven’t convinced me,” he adds, shortly. He leans back in his chair. “We _have_ a functioning appeals process. In fact, you’ve seen it in action. If a Decepticon isn’t happy with his orders, he’s welcome to take it up with his superior officer, as Jazz did when he escaped _you_.” 

Magnus grimaces at the reminder; he dearly wishes that Jazz had _not_ been pushed to such drastic action. 

“Megatron, I have reviewed your works and recorded proclamations extensively, and made a study of all the Decepticon code and legal rulings, such that they are,” he says. “The core tenets are clear: all Decepticons have the right to issue a formal challenge, and to be free from secret trials and punishments. Therefore I have devised a structure that guarantees these rights. In Section Four, Subsection “F” of the proposal I submitted, you will find a detailed justification for the methods I have chosen, as well as a logical analysis in the preceding section demonstrating the failures of the current system to ensure core Decepticon rights.”

“Failure?” Megatron questions, low, optics gone dangerously bright. 

“Yes,” Magnus says. “The system as it stands requires the individual being punished or otherwise detained to personally defend himself from abuse, or else to be forced to endure it, unfairly or not. But this standard is not applied to his commanding officer, and is impossible to police or verify without oversight. Therefore when an officer obtains assistance in matters of justice, as I did, the individual in question has no recourse without an established method of appeal.

“Furthermore,” Magnus continues, “the system as it currently operates offers significant opportunity for abuse; so long as an officer’s subordinates can go to no one for official assistance, the opportunity to mislead and terrify subordinates with unfair and disproportionate punishments, and therefore prevent any informal appeals—which a warrior knows well may or may not result in a true review of his circumstance—will still exist, and provide a great temptation to any unscrupulous individual who is strong enough to establish himself as an officer.” 

_Magnus_ certainly isn’t in the habit of beating his subordinates. However poorly he and Jazz might get along, Jazz certainly knows that he has little to fear from Magnus, except further confinement. But for others, that may not be true; certainly there is room in the current system for an officer to terrorize and harm those under his command, and yet force secrecy under the threat of some greater retribution. 

Megatron leans forward. “And I suppose you will nominate yourself to make these decisions? It seems to me that this system you’ve devised offers a number of escape routes for _Autobots_ who violate the surrender agreement you so diligently created.” 

“The system outlined in my proposal does not permit unilateral judgements,” Ultra Magnus defends. “All decisions require sign off by at least one other officer of equivalent or greater rank. Additionally, you yourself are the final decision-making authority in all matters concerning either Decepticons or Autobots, not just in the proposal I have submitted, but by the Decepticon code which we have all agreed to follow.” 

“Soundwave?” Megatron asks, turning to look at him for the first time since they entered the command center. 

“Soundwave concurs,” Soundwave says simply. “Process consistent with Decepticon code. Additionally, new process, relieves Starscream of final authority over all prisoners.” 

Megatron snorts, illumination routines returning to standard brightness. “Good point.” 

Megatron sits processing for a few moments. “Alright,” he says, eventually. “You can have your appeals process. But tone it down some. I don’t want all these courts full of paper pushers. Final ruling on appeals can go through you, Soundwave, and Shockwave—let’s say, any two of you can sign off on a final decision. I trust you will alert me to anything that requires my attention.” 

“Without an independent monitor—” Ultra Magnus starts.

“Just pick who you want to do your reviews,” Megatron interrupts. “I don’t care who, you can route the decision through Soundwave.” 

Magnus nods. It occurs to him, then—“When another Prime is chosen, do you wish the appeals authority to be transferred to him, or to remain with me?” 

Megatron looks at him for a moment, then says abruptly, “There isn’t going to be another Prime. I’ve instructed Scrapper to devise a containment system for long-term storage of the Matrix.” 

Ultra Magnus stares. “How will we—select a new Autobot leader?” he manages, once his motivator has recovered. 

“You don’t need to,” Megatron says. “You’ve proven yourself more than adequate as a commander, and more importantly, capable of getting the Autobots integrated. From now on, you’ll report directly to me,” he adds. “And get Jazz in line. I want him reporting to Soundwave.” 

Ultra Magnus runs an analysis of their agreement, and can find no argument: their surrender agreement _does_ give Megatron authority to determine Autobot leadership, so long as he does not use that leadership authority to alter the terms of their agreement. And the agreement clearly requires full integration within ten Cybertronian years; it is not inappropriate that Megatron should decree some steps towards integration at this stage. And yet— 

“I am not a Prime,” Magnus protests. 

“You are not,” Megatron says. “But you _are_ the leader of the Autobots.” His words are backed with the weight and authority of all his millions of years of command experience; against Magnus’ better judgement, his systems assign a positive value to Megatron’s approval. 

“And we’ll make a Decepticon of you yet,” Megatron adds, immediately disrupting the positive feedback loop he’d started. 

Ultra Magnus would dearly like to argue with _that,_ but he doesn’t need to run a tactical analysis to determine that such an argument would not be prudent at this time. Instead, he nods politely. “I appreciate your time and consideration,” he says. “I will implement the appeals process as you have instructed.” 

He takes his leave, and behind him he hears Megatron command Soundwave to remain. 

Ultra Magnus has a number of tasks pending in the queue, not least the need to provide Optronix with orientation materials and schedule an introductory meeting. Instead, he finds himself heading towards Jazz’s cell. On the way there he passes by Scrapper, who greets him with a pleasant nod, and is joined briefly by Laserbeak, who neither greets him nor relays any message, but does land uninvited on his head. 

He ends up staring unproductively at the monitoring feed. Jazz is occupying himself with a new box of amenities—a review of the access logs reveals that Ratchet has been to visit, and presumably provided them. He doesn’t look distressed, or as if he is planning another escape attempt, but Magnus knows that looks can be deceiving. 

Magnus has never desired to lead; although he has the administrative capabilities, he is well aware of his own lack of visionary imagination. If Megatron will not permit access to the Matrix, he will have to devise a new method to identify their next leader. A structure begins developing in his mind—a nomination process and a multi-tiered series of interviews, perhaps, led by a council of democratically-elected representatives and a separately composed search committee—even as he begins structuring the arguments needed to convince Megatron to release the Matrix. And in the meantime, Magnus can only commit himself to accomplishing the complete integration of their forces. 

He has turned his focus to selecting individuals to staff his independent monitoring team—a well-rounded selection of responsible Autobots and Decepticons, although his criteria for determining responsibility have to be adjusted several times, lest too few Decepticons remain to select an equal number of monitors from both factions—when Soundwave comes into the room. 

Soundwave comes up and stands silently beside him, watching the monitoring feed as well. Jazz has turned his attention to the rest unit, and appears to be adjusting the power distribution settings. 

“Observation,” Soundwave says, after a little while. “Autobot Prowl: functioning under limited medical supervision. Optimus Prime: now Optronix Maximus, no longer on core support.” 

“You are correct,” Ultra Magnus responds, not sure where this is leading. 

“Conditions no longer conducive to kidnapping scheme,” Soundwave explains. “Criminal intent, no longer possible. Therefore preventative imprisonment, no longer required.” 

Ultra Magnus wants to accept the conclusion, but—“Will Jazz not simply render them unconscious?” It seems to Ultra Magnus that Optronix and Prowl’s current state of repair would simply expedite the plan, as Jazz would no longer need to account for life support during his escape. 

“Unlikely,” Soundwave says. “Plan predicated on removing Optimus Prime, Prowl, from Decepticon infirmary for purposes of future rebellion. Optronix Maximus, Prowl, now able to remove themselves from infirmary and start rebellion, if so desired.” 

“They would not violate our surrender agreement,” Ultra Magnus assures him, quickly. 

“This, not Soundwave’s concern,” Soundwave says. “Jazz, point of concern. Suggestion: conditional supervised release. Soundwave, Prowl, can assist with oversight.” 

Magnus eventually nods. With supervised release, they can simply contain Jazz if he makes any additional kidnapping attempts; and if he does not, then Magnus will no longer be required to contain him in a closet. Supervised release is therefore the optimal solution, although Magnus remains wary. 

Rumble comes out from behind a pile of supplies which had been relocated from the closet. Frenzy pokes his head out behind him. 

“We can help supervise, too!” Rumble volunteers.

Frenzy nods agreement. “Yeah! We’re great at supervising.” 

Magnus eyes them doubtfully. It seems unlikely that Rumble or Frenzy are particularly talented supervisors—certainly Magnus has never seen either one of them demonstrate professional maturity or responsibility. But Soundwave nods anyway. 

“Assistance appreciated,” he says. 

“Yeah!” Rumble and Frenzy high-five, and scramble towards the cell door. “When are you gonna let him out?” Rumble asks. 

“Not at this time,” Magnus manages. “I must first develop the terms of conditional release, and then I must obtain Jazz’s agreement.” 

Rumble and Frenzy seem to be satisfied with that answer, and the two of them take off on some undetermined mission. 

“Soundwave, are you certain the two of them are able to provide adequate supervision?” Magnus doesn’t want to question him, but he feels compelled. 

“Responsibility: good for development,” Soundwave says. “Also, Soundwave, will provide additional oversight.” 

Magnus nods, relieved. 

There is a great deal to be done—more now that he must develop a release protocol—but he doesn’t start on anything just yet. Instead they simply stand there together, and when Soundwave reaches out a hand, Magnus reaches back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ultra Magnus wanted this to be an inspiring story about bravely creating new legal code in extremely unfavorable conditions. I wanted this to be a funny story about extrajudicial confinement, and also possibly falling in love with your coworker. The story itself had other opinions entirely, so if you were blindsided by all the Optimus angst, all I have to say is me too!!
> 
> If you made it this far then thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed <3 Please take a moment to let me know what you thought! 
> 
> p.s. come find me on [tumblr](https://spacecoats.tumblr.com/)!!


End file.
